Television
by silver-nightstorm
Summary: Getting reaped was the icing on the cake. I don't like cake anymore.


I actually finished this :D In Venice :DD Enjoy~!

Written for District 14's first Monthly Prompt Challenge thingy, 'Love'. I _really_ struggled with this one… I hope you like it!

**Television**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Summary:** Getting reaped was the icing on the cake. I don't like cake anymore.

XX

It was a sunny day when I was reaped. I remember that very well. I thought it was ironic while I stood in the District square that the sky didn't give a damn about how 48 children (I didn't expect that for the Quell, but I suppose they were running out of ideas) were being sent to their deaths. Rain would have been more fitting, in my humble opinion. Or, at the very least, an overcast sky.

But no. It was sunny. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. And I wanted to scream and cry and curse and fall to my knees in theatrical sorrow. But it was _sunny_. And sunny means _happiness_, according to the world of television. So happiness it was. But inside, inside…

Getting reaped was the icing on the cake. I don't like cake anymore.

XX

I remember how fake everything felt. It was like waltzing through a dream of bright lights and beautiful dresses. A dream filled with flashing cameras, cheering crowds, and roaring applause. A dream. That's all it was.

Stepping into the arena, I was sure I would feel _something_. Sorrow maybe. Sorrow. Sadness, compassion. Tears? But… nothing. The horrors of the bloodbath were somehow muted. I watched it all, standing by my three allies, unable to look away. But… I didn't actually _feel_ anything. Did that make me a monster?

I normally cry when I watch the Hunger Games. Ever since I can remember, I would bawl like a child while watching the Games. It was a tradition. I was sure that I would humiliate myself on television by bawling disgusting snot-filled tears as I watched children get cut down by other children.

But… there was nothing.

Was I so sick that I just… didn't care?

XX

We made our base on the beach. I remember it clearly. It was almost as though I was on a vacation. He taught me how to swim. We made campfires and laughed loudly, and whenever there was a loud noise in the woods, _he_ would go take care of it. I was never directly involved. But I could still hear the screams.

The arena looked like a tropical paradise, the kind that one would see in books. The kind that didn't actually exist anymore. It was falsely comforting. But… I liked it. It made me feel happy. In the Hunger Games, I was actually happy.

That all changed quickly.

XX

I was foraging for food that day. We were on the beach, but I refused to let our little alliance eat only fish. I wouldn't touch the damned stuff, but the Four kids loved it. I climbed trees, picked fruit, and ate that. A real Eleven girl.

I heard a scream. I stayed still. I knew that if there was any danger, he'd get me when it was safe. And if he didn't, well, I was dead anyway. I was nothing without the other three. They were the ones who knew what they were doing. They only picked me up because I could cook. And think.

I waited. I waited some more. And both of the guys ran up to me. Covered in blood. _She_ was missing. I ran back to camp. More blood. More and more and more blood. And her. … _Her_.

I don't know how I didn't see it then. But… I was a fool.

XX

A few days later, I was alone, with _him_. We abandoned the camp on the beach. It was no longer a safe haven. Our other ally had met a messy end. An end that was not deserved.

I was roaming around the arena with a murderer, and I thought I was safe.

I still didn't feel anything. It was… a defense mechanism, I suppose. Too much was happening around me to comprehend, so I blocked it out. All of it. I ignored it, and hoped it would go away.

But it didn't. And I cried.

He comforted me then. The last person I had left. He comforted me, and made me feel better. Or so I thought. He said he loved me. He said he'd help me feel something again. I trusted him. I believed… I believed he was what I needed.

I was wrong. He made it worse. _He_ was the one who killed me.

Not directly, of course. But… for all technicalities sake, it was _him_.

XX

It was a sunny day again. I should have been wary. Sunny days didn't mean good things for me. I should have been alert. I should have watched. But… we were careless. We laughed, loudly. In the Games, idiots who laugh loudly don't survive. They get ambushed.

I was an idiot.

It was sudden, like ambushes usually are. They jumped out at us, the Careers. They were angry at him for abandoning the alliance. They wanted revenge. They wanted his head. He fought. Bravely. But it wasn't enough.

Time seemed to slow down as I ran up to him. He fell onto me, and tried to speak. His mouth… not words… blood.

I screamed.

He pulled me close. My pocket, he said. Letter. I reached into his pocket. I pulled out a letter, surprisingly pristine. It wasn't covered in red. Only a little bit. It was still legible.

_It wasn't him. It was me. _

I stared at it. It couldn't be true. I killed the wrong person, I trusted the wrong person, I… _loved_… the wrong person!

And then I saw the knife. And more blood. I didn't know that one body could have that much blood in it. But… two bodies could.

**XX**

… I'm not exactly sure what that was, but… -shrug- Review~


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